The thermometer reads 2° Fahrenheit below zero as we gather our ski gear off of the old wooden drying rack by the woodstove. Moments later, Dad comes in through the side door with an arm full of firewood, the wind howling, blowing snow through the opened door as he shivers and quickly closes it behind him. He looks at my brother and me and says, “You two are crazy if you want to ski today.” Nick immediately speaks up and tells him that we’re not scared of the cold and that it’s nothing a hot burger and fries won’t fix. We have been itching to go skiing at Northeast Slopes in Vermont all week after watching a multiple-day storm pass by our classroom window. Walking between classes, I imagine the skis on my feet, the brisk air on my face, and the sensation of floating through fresh snow.
We finally turn into the parking lot after our brief 10-minute ride in the truck, there are five cars already parked, just a few steps away from the base. With a small parking lot and only one rope tow, crowds here are not a common sight. We quickly notice a few of our friends who are geared up and getting in line as the ’73 Dodge Dart fires up, the heart and muscle of the slopes’ main rope tow.
With our adrenaline pumping with contagious excitement, we run over to the “lodge” and throw on our gear as quickly as we can, smashing our feet into our boots. As soon as we finish, we toss our bags into the corner and rush out the front door over to the base of the ski tow, which is all of about 50 feet or so. Once in line, we finally take our first look at the hill, the new snow blanketing the landscape, a fresh canvas for us to tell our story of the day’s events. We’re not in line long, since there are less than 10 people, so we don’t have too much time to froth before we’re next in the queue. The excitement is palpable as we make our way up to the top shack. We watch other skiers and riders hoot and holler with joy as they lay down the first tracks. As we approach the top, we watch our two friends make a mad dash over to the Northside, where the “big kicker” stands untouched. With our friends still in view, we make the same decision and take the hard right off the lift to follow them. As we straight-line it after them, we watch them tail each other off the lip of the jump and fly through the air in unison before stomping the landing in a big cloud of snow. With my brother on my tail, I make a hard left toward the cat track gap and see that it is untouched, a rare occurrence since it’s the only gap jump at Northeast Slopes. We fix our line as we make our way over, picking up as much speed as possible to take it as big as possible. I turn around and see that Nick is still hot on my tail. As we leave the takeoff, I can feel time slow down. I can remember the weightless feeling of flight and the better feeling of a near-weightless landing, which is a memory I won’t soon forget.
It’s hard to beat a pow day. There is no better feeling than floating through fresh, untracked snow. It’s a feeling that you can chase your entire life. A feeling so simple and pure that you forget about everything else and can change the path of your life. I am a skier whose life has been ever changed by the pursuit of this sensation, and I couldn’t be happier to have found this addiction at Northeast Slopes.
Northeast Slopes is the oldest operating ski tow in the USA, and not much has changed here since they opened their doors in 1936. The resort is located in East Corinth, Vermont, on a side-hill pasture that was originally the Eastman Farm. A handshake deal with the farmer was all it took to seal the partnership that has inspired a community to keep the slopes open to this day. Things were a bit different in the early days. The safety protocols were less stringent than what you’ll find in the modern ski world. The single rope tow brought you up to the top of the pasture through an opening in the barbed wire fence. Not to worry; there were two openings in the barbed wire fence that you could pass through on your way down.
After many years of destroying gloves and mittens, the old rope tow was eventually upgraded to a T-bar. This upgrade was a game-changer. With the old rope tow, you could only ski as long as you could hang on. This new T-bar changed the limiting factor from grip strength to leg strength. This made a world of difference to us and our ski days were extended. This also meant that we could get a nicer pair of mittens instead of the old leather work gloves that were held together by duct tape.
The staff at Northeast Slopes consists strictly of volunteers who have kept the ski-tow operational throughout the years. The small lodge at the bottom of the slope lends an air of authenticity of basic, simple skiing. No frills, no thrills, and no shops, besides the small kitchen that serves hot dogs, hamburgers, and leather gloves for the chapped hands of the skiers.
With 12 trails, 35 acres, and now three lifts, Northeast Slopes continues to provide affordable rates to skiers and riders keeping the cost of entry low. The community-driven and volunteer-based staff are the heart and soul of what has allowed Northeast Slopes to “Keep Skiing Real since 1936.” It has certainly always been the epitome of “real skiing” for me and my childhood friends.
This paints a picture just as vivid as the memory. North-East Slopes is a true benefit to the community. Providing anything from a friendly environment to learn the basics to a gentle slope to reminisce on. Thanks for bringing me back down memory lane Chris. I hope to see them open this 24/25 season.